Years of Love
by Annanova
Summary: Kyle and Stan's relationship through the years of childhood, starting in Kindergarden.
1. Chapter 1

Hi! So this is my first South Park fic, and I hope it's good!

_I'm Kyle Broflovski. I'm kinda sorta in love with my best friend. _I scribbled the line of horribly printed words out of my notebook. It seemed too cliche. Too done. But I was in love with my best friend. I sighed and reminded myself that all I was doing was starting another journal. Something that I had done since I learned to wright. My mother always influenced me, trying to get me to write some memorable events into my life. I just don't have an exciting life.

I think back on my first entry on something other then what game I played. It was my first day of preschool. I remember the page as if I wrote it yesterday. Hell, I remember the event as if it happened yesterday.

I showed up in the crowded, loud and overly colorful room, gripping my mother's hand with all my strength. I was terrified, it was like every child had a best friend. Everyone was paired up.

It took an hour of coaxing to get me to let go of my mom and take the teacher's hand instead. She had a kind smile, one that showed that she had experience dealing with kids like me.

"Kyle... I know it's hard leaving home, but you'll make some great friends here," she cooed, and gave my hand a tight squeeze.

"Mrs. Claridge?" I asked in my people pleasing voice. I had never really left my mom's side and I wasn't looking forward to it. "When can I go home?"

"Oh, honey, the time will fly by." She started dragging me to my cubbyhole which was next to a fat kid shoving a chocolate bar into his mouth. He turned when as we approached him, brown bangs flying over his forehead and candy smeared across his mouth. "This is Eric. His last name is Cartman. It starts with a C. Your last name starts with a B. C and B are next to each other in the alphabet."

I decided to amuse her and tried my best to look as if this was the first time I was hearing this information. Maybe I could just skip Kindergarden...

The next thing I knew the talk about the order of letters had ended and the teacher was bidding me a goodbye, hurrying off to pull some jittery kid out of his makeshift sanctuary under her desk.

I was stuck with the fat kid. For a few seconds we stared at each other, him shoving in chocolate and I trying to give my best smile.

"Hey, Kahl." He smiled sweetly and I wonder where he learned my name. "Would you like some," he stuck out the slobbery candy bar.

I grinned and nodded, thinking I was making a new friend. Maybe this school thing was right for me.

Instead of giving me candy from the bar he spat into his hand, and before I could back away shoved the half digested brown mess around my mouth. It was_ disgusting_. I stepped back as if it would rid the feeling of wet warm spit and ease the pain of my first misleading gesture. I barley knew the kid but I had already planned out a year of giggling and sharing food with him.

"Look! The new kid, Kahl pooped out his mouth!" Eric laughed evilly and just like a movie, every child stopped what they were doing to see the new kid's amazing crapping skills.

I whimpered, my lip quivered and I was about to bawl. It seemed that even the teacher cracked a smile. There was only one boy who didn't. One with black hair, and bright blue eyes. He was just staring at me, and I stared back. He smiled. I threw up.

The memory made me smile. Even then Stan had some power over me. I wish I could say that it was more romantic. That he and I met under the table, and he wiped the mess from my face. That maybe he even tried to kiss my tears away. But that was it. One smile. One smile that said that I'd always have a friend and one smile that lead me to love.

_So what do you think? Should I continue, with like, a story for each stage of life, or leave at this? Please review kindly! _


	2. V's

**You guys are all so awesome! Your comments were so sweet! You have no idea how happy they made me! It's the reason I'm updating so soon XD **

After spending a day home from the utter humiliation of tossing my cookies in front of the entire Kindergarden class on my first day, things did get a lot better. Wholly because of Stan.

The next day when I went back, I stayed as far away from Cartman as possible, which was difficult since the teacher was obsessed with the order of the alphabet. I decided not to tell my mother, since I really would have been embarrassed to have her march into the class and demand that everyone befriend me. It wasn't that bad, except for nap time, when I was forced to lay my cot next to his. He never slept, just stayed up and made fun of my Jew-ness. When I rolled over he pulled my hair and I tried to act like I didn't even know.

I guess Stan felt bad for me, since after two weeks of moving to South Park I still didn't have a friend. The first time he talked to me was when we were working at our tables, practicing our teacher's favorite thing in the world; alphabet letters. Cartman was out sick, and I finally had some peace.

"Hi." A somewhat high pitched voice greeted me. "I'm Stan." He had his worksheet in one hand, and his thick pencil in the other. Setting down his belongings on the table, he sat in Cartman's seat.

"Hi, I'm Kyle." I said, watching the other boy, just as he did me. Sizing each other up, too young to know it was inappropriate to do so. I was a little more nervous then he was and turned my head back to my paper.

"The V's are the hardest, huh?" He asked a few seconds later, that stupid grin still on his face.

"Yeah," I lied just to have something in common. Honestly, I'd been writing for a while.

A few more seconds of quietness followed, and the boy was still watching me.

"Can you really poop out of your mouth?"

"No," I defended myself, a bit offended but this time I wasn't disappointed. I hadn't set my goals high for the boy.

"I didn't think so." Stan laughed. "Cartman's a jerk, huh?"

I beamed. "Yeah."

"Wanna be best friends?" He asked, just as excited as I was. I nodded. "Good. Then you can help me." He shoved the paper in front of me. He was on his V's, and like he'd said, it looked like he was having some difficulty.

"It's easy." I forced the pencil into his palm, and held his sticky hand in mine. An unexpected blush shot up my face. I was paralyzed by the other, too young to know what it meant, but my hand continued to move Stan's so he could shape the letter. "See. V. Not that hard."

If only it was that easy to hold Stan's hand now. I sigh, even after all these years I can feel that moment. But it only serves to make me want it again.

**So... what do you think? Please review! They make me super happy! 3**


	3. Superhero

** Thanks so much for all your reviews! Please keep them coming, and please answer the question at the end!**

"And Mom! Guess what else?" I remember gushing at the dinner table later that month. I lowered my voice as if I was telling the juiciest gossip in the world. "Stan told me he was a superhero!"

My parents gasped.

"He can jump this high!" I put my hand up to my shoulder, which was then about four feet from the ground. "And he can fly, he just can't show me 'cause then all his powers would go away."

It's a bit humiliating now to think that I truly believed all of this. I would have bet my life on the fact that Stan spent his nights with his underwear on top of tights and a giant question mark on the top of his head.

"Really?" My mom asked, even more impressed then I was. My father's mouth hung equally open and his eyes just as big. "Why don't you have him over some time, Kyle? Maybe he can show you some other superpowers."

I shook my head, but my mother was already set on having Stan to dinner. Sure, we had said that we were best friends but I didn't want to let him see my house. I was worried that there was something that would make him question my value and our friendship.

"Stan Marsh, right? Sharron's son?" Mom asked my father, as she lifted a forkful of stew into her mouth.

"I think so," Gerald smiled. We had just moved in about a month ago, and we just learning the names of all our neighbors.

"Why don't we have them all over! I'll call them. It'll be a great way to meet everyone. Anyway, I'd love to see Stan's super-jump." She laughed and I hung my head in defeat. I just knew something was going to go wrong.

** I know, I'm sorry! It's short and a little boring. But I promise, the next will be longer. SuperDupergir suggested that I keep them younger then fourth grade. I want to ask, what do you think? I planed to just get the start of their friendship down, then go on with having each chapter a different year, but this sounds cool too. What do you guys think? **


	4. Legos

** Hi! So fist off, I'm sorry I haven't replied, in like, forever. School started and I'm a lot busier then I used to be. I'm still debating their aging... so if you wanna give me an opinion that would be great! **

Thinking back, I remember school that Friday and how excited Stan and I both were perfectly. We talked the entire class about what we planned to play and what my mom was going to make for dinner. At that point I was honestly starting to believe that I had just been overreacting. Stan seemed a lot nicer then the fat kid and I doubted that anything I could have done would make him hate me too badly.

At three that afternoon, when all the parents gathered along the entrance to the school Stan and I bid our goodbyes. Stan grabbed my hand and I blushed brightly as he lead me to the doors. It was something he'd been doing lately but I didn't mind one bit.

As usual he let go of my hand too soon, and held his mother's instead. Shelia was talking to her, grinning and when she saw me she led me back to the car.

I had two hours before Stan would be at my house. The entire time was spent propping up my toys and setting up my room. I wanted to impress him. Not that I had a lot of belonging, only a few stuffed animals, a few small shelfs of my favorite books, some trucks and cars, and my legendary lego collection.

The two hours seemed to last forever, but eventually the door bell rang. The second my father opened it I grabbed my best friend by his hand and pulled him up the stair way, ignoring any of the people that came with him.

Stan was grinning ear to ear, much like myself. "Hi Kyle! Look," he opened a paper grocery bag that I must have overlooked in my rush to play. I'd never had a friend over to my house before and I wasn't too sure what to do, thankfully the raven seemed to have experience in this department.

"What is it?" I asked, leaning over the bag, and hand turning the doorknob and exposing my room. A unison gasp escaped our lips. Inside was billions - - which I now realize was actually only about twenty - - little posable action figures. Not the shitty kind that I had, but the kind that bent at the waist, knees and elbows. I was impressed.

By the looks of Stan's face he felt the same way about my legos. We glanced at each other and it was as though we shared an unsaid plan.

Seconds later we were on the floor, dumbing out the large plastic tub of blocks onto my floor. About a half hour later we had built the worlds biggest action figure fort. Including an adult video store which Stan had learned about from Kenny McCormick. Of course we only thought it meant a video store that had documentaries or bloody video games.

I always smirk when I think back on that day. What I would do to get Stan play with my legos today...

** XP I just think legos sounds like a dirty word. So please review! And tell me what you think! Please be kind **


	5. Epsilon Raven

** Hey! Again guys, thanks for all your reviews! I love each one of them and they really make me race to put out another chapter! Thank you!**

"I wanna be him." I recall sticking out a small hand as if saying what I wished would make Stan hand the action figure over. It was by far the best, with the coolest blue uniform and the biggest weapons. The only problem was that Stan had it tightly in his grasp.

"No, Kyle. I picked him first," Stan justified and I saw his fist tighten around the toy. "You can pick next but he's mine."

"That's not fair! I didn't' know we were calling dibs," I whined. Since I was still the only child I was used to getting what I wanted. I shared pretty well, but I was still a child and this was a very important argument. "Besides, you used all my green legos!"

"You never told me I couldn't!" Stan pouted the exact pout he still had whenever he lost a football game or failed a test. I still think it's cute.

My hand lashed out in an attempt to grab what I wanted a claim it as my own, instead I hit Stan's hand, and I couldn't seem to let go.

He looked down at my hand, obviously thinking it was an act of peace instead of war. "Fine. You can have him this time. But next time I get to have him. And I'm only giving it to you because I can play with him any time I want." He wriggled his hand out of my grip and put in the action figure instead. "Let's play now, 'kay Ky?"

I grinned and took the doll into my hand, placing him onto the fort. "What did you call me?" I asked more interested in trying to get the tiny man stand on the bumpy legos.

"Ky?" He asked, picking out another figure from his bag. I gave him a confused look when he glanced up. "It's a pet name, duh."

I continued to stare.

"Ky is like Kyle. It's just a pet name. Y'know? Something you call someone when you like them." He explained as he stopped digging in the bag and came up with two action figures.

Apparently the confession hadn't meant much to me. I knew he liked me and I liked him, at that age all it meant was that we were friends. Instead of worrying about our status I reached for they bag. "You took two!"

"That's because I let you be Epsilon Raven!" Stan pointed to the former fight subject.

** So what do you think? I dunno... this is my least favorite. I hope I'm not running out of ideas... anyway, please be kind and review! **


	6. Food

**Ohmigosh! We're up to twenty reviews and five chapters! I actually had to make a folder on my desktop for it! It makes me feel like this is a real story XD **

"Kids," I herd a woman's voice call up about a half an hour later. It wasn't my mother's so I figured it was Stan's mom. "Time for dinner!"

Stan and I shared a look and a genuine feeling of disappointment that our time had ended so quickly. In reality we had probably spent an hour playing in my room. Today an hour with Stan seemed like nothing; hardly worth the four minute walk to his house. But then an hour was normally a lifetime. "Coming!" Stan screamed down to his mother.

I don't remember what we ate, or what the grownups talked about, but I remember every line and aspect of Stan's face. We laughed even though no one joked and kicked each other underneath the table.

Our friendship started out normally and though it pains me even now to admit, we are pretty normal. I wish Stan and I had a more romantic start. But then again, as I stare down at my still empty journal I can't help knowing that Stan would hate me if he knew how much I love him. He's still on and off with Wendy, even if I tell him that it isn't normal to date the same girl. Maybe he just knows I'm saying it out jealousy.

I decide to go back into my thoughts of our past. It's less painful there.

**I know, I kinda changed it to the present tense when Kyle's not in his memories. I just thought that might be easier to read if I ever get into actually making them a couple. I know, I have awful planning. Anyway, this is so short because I really, really want to age them up. Please review because it makes my day!**


	7. Tell Me

**Hey! I feel guilty for making such a tiny update. Anyway, please read and review! **

Fourth grade is a time when everyone finds where they really belong. Who they really are, and I suppose Stan and I were no exception. We were together just about every day since kindergarden. We grew to be the best friends we are today and we never disagreed on anything important enough to fight on. We were perfect and I'd do anything to make him see that now.

"Hey Ky? Know what?" I recall Stan asking that summer. Every night the summer before fifth grade was spent at a sleepover in one of our houses. Stan was ten and he still had the same haircut he has today; tuffs of effortlessly straight black hair that fell just under his ears and always seemed to get in his eyes.

"What?" I perched myself on top of my bed, crossing my legs and playing with the fabric of the leg of my pajama pants. Unlike Stan I wasn't aloud to wear boxers to bed. Something about pneumonia in dick form, I guess.

Stan looked up at me from his sleeping bag on the ground next to my bed. "You know what Kenny told me? He said that he was with this girl and he was kissing her and his junk got all hard."

"Sick dude!" I scrunched up my nose.

"I know right?" Stan laughed nervously. "Did you even know it did that?"

"Well..." I tugged on the end of my pant leg, blushing brightly. "Duh."

Stan just bunched his eyebrows together as if trying to figure out how I came about this information while he had no clue. I unfolded my legs, and stood on his blanket to reach over and shut off the light. Since it was the weekend we spent at my house, we had to pretend to be asleep by eleven. Anyway, with the direction that this conversation was heading in, I didn't really want to be able to see his face.

I let the darkness flood over the room, and settled back on my bed, the both of us getting situated without a word.

Awkward.

"How'd you find out? Did it happen to you?" Stan asked finally.

I turned the color of my hair. Yeah, shutting off the light was a totally good idea. "Um, no." I lied. "I read it."

Truth was, even when I was a kid I think I was extremely sexually confused. Maybe it's true that people are born gay. Or maybe every kid likes to inspect their junk. Either way, with enough non intended stroking one could imagine what happened.

"Oh." Stan said meekly. He must have been a bit disappointed I knew before him. I mean, it was Stan who told me that girls had something different down there, and that their boobs got huge. One would think I would know that, but I guess I just though grown-boobed-women always had grown tits. Again, I think I had to be born gay to never get into the deeper meaning of this.

"Can we sleep now?" I asked, using any excuse I could to get out of this.

"One more thing..." I held my breath. "How do you get it to happen?"

"Dude! I-I dunno..."

"If it happens to you, you gotta tell me? Okay?" The raven haired boy asked. "I wanna see what it looks like."

** I know, it's kind of sick to have kids talk about this... but it's part of any good friendship. Please review! **


	8. Punches and Blood

**It feels like it's been too long, doesn't it? Thanks for your reviews, honest to God they make my life and I love each one of them! **

"Stupid fag!" Cartman jabbed a fat hand at my shoulder, pushing me back. His words dripped with hate and for the millionth time I wondered what I did to deserve that strong of a feeling directed at me. He hadn't changed a bit, fat pudgy body, and brown hair that barely covered his huge bulbous head. I'd rather have a Jew-fro then not be able to cover my own huge head.

I stared down at my shoulder, fury racing through my veins. I hated him right back. The constant teasing and ridicule over the years hadn't lessoned, if anything it got worse.

"Fucking faggot," the fat boy pushed me again, his face inches from my own. I guessed he was trying to get me to back up against the wall of the school. One reason I hated recess. Yeah, the teasing definitely got worst.

"Fatass!" I yelped back. Normally I never backed down to him verbally, but I never kept my feet in the same place. He got too close and I hated feeling his breath anywhere near my face. Anyway, I was small. I still am. Part of being a diabetic meant being skinny and part of being a Jew meant being short. I never would have dreamed that I could win in a fight with him, but my temper wouldn't let my mouth stay shut.

I guess that Cartman was more annoyed then most days because the next thing I knew I was being squished against the brick wall of the school. My back slammed and I felt my spine rattle. I stared up at the fat boy, pain raising though my body and fear fogging my vision.

I can't remember exactly what happened, but I knew I was called a kike several times. Cartman's fat hand balled into a fist and he hit my cheek, which in return hit the wall. _Ouch_.Another hand made contact with my eye, and my temple smacked the bricks again.

I was pissed beyond pissed. I could fucking taste the blood in my mouth. Ignoring whatever fear of fighting back I had, my fists swung. Everything was a blur of red anger, I can't recall any of it, and even while it was happening I had no control over what I was doing. It was like being one with my total primitive side.

I only stopped when I hit something the wasn't complete blubber. I blinked, trying to get my clear vision back and all senses came back. I was staring at Stan, who was wincing and rolling his shoulder. "Shit," he muttered, and grabbed both of my hands that were still clenched in fists. "Fuck Ky, you hit hard."

I guess I did; Cartman was wailing, sobbing and bleeding all at the same time. A fat blubbering mess. I felt no guilt.

"Come on dude." Stan dragged me past through the crowd of children who had gathered to watch the Jew get his ass kicked. What a pleasant surprise.

I was still panting but I obediently followed Stan. I'd follow him anywhere.

We arrived at the nurse's a office and Stan all but sat me down on the cot. I can't remember if the recess teacher ever made a move to help Cartman in anyway, but I do know as sure as hell that the only person who really helped me was Stan. The nurse looked me over, took my temperature no matter how irrelevant we told her it was, and sighed.

"Well there's not much I can do." She said, handing me a wet washcloth to wipe away the blood still oozing out of my mouth. "You knocked out a baby tooth, and you're going to have some pretty nasty bruising, but I can't help you much there."

"Thanks," I replied sarcastically, and Stan glared at the nurse. Only now do I realize what a possessive streak he has, and how much I love it.

"You stay here. I'll get the other boy, and call your mom. You two are in for a lot of trouble." She sighed like she couldn't be bothered with her work. It's people like her that I want to yell at for picking the wrong job. If she can't handle what's in the basic description then maybe she should look for another occupation.

"Hey, he didn't do a freaking thing," Stan defended me. "It was the fat-fart that swung first!"

"Sure sweetie, but violence is never the answer," she sighed again and left.

Stan flipped her off and turned to me. His face visibly softened and took the damp cloth from me, whipping the corner of my mouth. "You're fucking crazy Ky. You're like an animal when you set in for the kill."

I laughed, and rolled my tooth in my hand. "Thanks," I was blushing brightly. "I"m gonna get my ass kicked the second he sees me."

"Don't you get it dude? You just got the free pass to beat the shit out of Cartman whenever. You know you're going to win." The raven scrubbed some half dried blood from my cheek.

"I dunno man. He's so much bigger then me..."

"But you're wild. That's a lot better then fat. It's gonna get you further," Stan laughed.

I shrugged. I really didn't want to talk about the fight. I was getting scared, of my mother and of Cartman. So I changed the subject. "So how's my mouth? Is it badass?"

Stan laughed. "Totally. Your swollen cheek and black eye is sexy too."

I knew he was kidding but I turned red again. "Tooth fairy better give me something good for this. I think I deserve it."

"I bet she'll give you money this time. No more stupid Jewy gifts."

"Shut up," I muttered affectionately. "Don't call me a Jew."

"Okay!" He drew back from me, and I missed the smell of his hand, resting on my mouth to soak what little blood was left. He shielded himself like he was afraid of me and a smacked his arm playfully.

"Thanks Stan," I mentioned softly.

"Anytime," he leaned forward and kissed my swollen cheek.

** I dunno, it just seems that someone as small as Kyle would be scared of Cartman at first. Anyway, thank you for reading and pretty please review! It's my longest post yet, and I think I deserve it XD **


	9. Hats

** Oh my gosh! Did you forget about me? I hope not! It's been too long! I just had no inspiration for the story... I feel like it's going everywhere. I really should have planned this better . But I write for fun, and I hope you guys read for fun, so no hard feelings, right? **

"Why don't you come up to the front and read your note to Kyle for everyone to hear?" Mister Garrison ordered more then asked, and I could feel my heart swell in my throat. Of course I knew it wasn't really from Stan, as much as I wished that it was. Bebe was the one bugging me lately about dating or kissing her. Nasty.

I wasn't into girls too much then, and honestly I'd still rather have a guy then a girl. Sure, I'm bisexual. Tities are amazing, but I'd rather have Stan anytime. Yet, I was young, I had no interest in kissing girls like Stan did. I remember my mom always laughing it off, telling me I'd grow up and find them to be great. I guess I was just behind in my development, but I knew something was different about me.

I wasn't last to kiss a girl in my grade, but I wasn't exactly enthusiastic about it. Becca was... a whole different story. Let's just say for the time being that I wasn't as crazy about her as I was about the idea of having someone to fall in love with.

"But I didn't write the note!" Stan cried, holding it up innocently. I willed the paper to fall out of his hand and blow out the window. Maybe a dog would eat it, fall into a volcano and blow up. At least then I would never see it again. "Shuddup Cartman!"

I blinked, trying to zone out the entire discussion. At least then blood would stay in my body instead of my cheeks. Suddenly a flash of brown caught my eyes and Stan was walking up to the front of the room.

"Dear Kyle." He took a breath, turning the color I hoped I wasn't. "You have got such a great ass. I could sleep for days on those perk-cheeks, let me tell you." His monotonous voice cracked and I looked away. As soon as I did I wished I hadn't. Bebe caught my eye, winking and shooting me her take on a seductive smile. "I'd like to live with you and wear your ass as a hat for all of eternity."

Everyone's mouth popped open, including the teachers and so did mine. I knew something horrible was going to come out of that note, but I never would have suspected... that.

"Stanley Marsh!" Mister Garrison gasped. "Office now!"

"But you told me-"

"You and Kyle. Now."

"Ah, shit." Stan muttered and crumpled the note in his fist. The last thing I wanted was to be alone with Stan now, but by the look that the class was giving me, I decided it might be for the best. Mustering up courage I lifted myself from the desk and gave a half-ass smile to my best friend.

**Ah! Now I will have something to go one with the next chapter –which will be up quicker, I promise. Thank you for all of your reviews. Especially**___**Niiiikolaaaa **_**who spammed me xD I love you for it, including you Meghan486 and StyleFTW who and are some of my most loyal readers. Thank you guys, all of you so much! You make me feel cool! Please review and thank you for reading! **


	10. Kyle, oh Kyle!

**Okay, so these are a little out of order... my apologies! But I feel these are only dabbles, I mean, I write for fun and hopefully you guys read for fun. Either way, I present you with something a bit yummier :P**

As I sit thinking back on Stan I realize that our first kiss was anything but imperfect. You hear all these stories about people being all humiliated when a first kiss goes shit, but with Stan nothing could suck. When I have his lips against mine the world is fucking perfect. Anyway, back to our kiss.

"I dare you guys to make out!" Cartman announced, arising from his bored plight. It was one of our monthly sleepovers in Cartman's basement and to be honest I didn't really mind going. Normally I hated anything that had to do with the antisemitic fat ass, but he remodeled the area and it was pretty kick ass. We had a flat screen, two couches, two beanbag chairs, a mini-fridge and just about anything a teenage boy could hope for.

I hated how spoiled he was. I still do.

"No way dude!" I screeched, faking horror. I had a game controller in my hands and was defeating Kenny in a head-on epic battle, though the second Cartman announced his dare I dropped it next to the blue beanbag chair I was lounging on.

"Kyle you're such a ninny." Kenny muttered it as if it was nothing important. He stretched off the couch he was laying on for a can of pop. "Fucking do it. Fat ass's house is getting kinda boring. I need something to beat off to in his bathroom."

Cartman let out a wild narcissistic laugh from his perch on the second couch, eating his fourth bag of chips. "Do it Stan!"

Stan laughed, also engaged in our video game. "I dunno man, Kyle's mom might make me marry him." The group burst into hysterics and I slapped the side of Stan's leg. This of course only provoked my secret lover further.

"Kyle, oh Kyle!" Stan swooned, rolling off the beanbag next to me, and ending up basically kneeling in my lap. "My dearest! My love!"

"My stomach," I groaned and in all truth I did feel like puking my intestines. Too bad it wasn't from disgust.

"Kiss me!" Stan sighed and leaned forward. For a few seconds I thought he was going to and jumped back. Everyone laughed harder.

"Do it!" Kenny challenged, "bet you won't!"

"Kiss the Jew!"

For a few seconds I stared into Stan's eyes and saw something like fear. I figured he was afraid of the looks of kissing me, though I later found out that it was merely nerves.

The next thing I knew Stan was breathing right on top of me, and I could feel his hair hovering over my face. He was shoving me into the soft seat, but I didn't mind at all. It was only for the look, I had to seem like I wasn't enjoying it. Then Stan's lips were on mine and I sort of panic-melted. Part of me shitted from the fear of doing it, and wondering how the hell I was going to breath. Stan didn't seem like he was going to move anytime soon. But most of me just turned to goo; God... Stan just has a way of knowing every seductive move ever invented.

I opened my eyes, peering out the sides, looking at Cartman who was gawking in shock, then to the other side of the room at Kenny who looked happy as hell.

Then I glanced at Stan, and smiled below our pressed lips. He looked so peaceful, so happy and all because of me.

"'Ey! Stop boning on my floor Jew!" We snapped apart like repellents on a magnet, but not before Stan snuck his tongue into the crevice of my lips.

**Thanks for reading! I hope you liked it! Please read and review! I love you guys! **


	11. Kyle Likes

**Hey guys! I've finally decided to get off my lazy butt and update! Please don't give up on me yet haha, I love you all! And like I said before, these don't really go in order. My dream was to have them that way, but my brain doesn't really listen to me :) anyway, I hope you guys don't mind! **

"I hate my life!" I groaned, throwing my face back into my pillow. Stan who was perched at the foot of my bed sighed.

"Oh, stop being so overly dramatic Kyle, you aren't dying. You're turning thirteen."

"That's the same thing!" I wailed, but I don't think he fully understood me because I wasn't too sure of the syllables passing through the feathers. Stan didn't say anything, and afraid of loosing what little sympathy I could get from him I flung my body in the opposite direction. I landed on Stan's shoulder, not caring how gay it made me seem.

"Don't you get it?" I asked in a hushed voice. His face looked unresponsive so I whispered as if it were the biggest secret in the world. "I'm a Jew."

Stan blinked, still not seeing the full extent of this horror. "It's not that bad. I mean, you've been practicing your Hebrew every day after school. Puking the day before the ceremony is not going to change anything. You're mom's too much of an evil bitch to let you get out of this. You could be in the hospital for fucks sake and she'd still make you go." He tugged my hand, "now come on or we're going to be late to school."

"Shut up Barf-Boy!" I pulled back my arm, and jabbed a finger at my mouth. "I'm not going anywhere with these."

"So you have braces? My sister still has hers. Maybe you can be Braces Buddies."

"Sttaaaan!" I cried again, well aware of my whining. Looking back now, I can see how foolish I was to fret this much about metal in my mouth, but back then it meant the world to me. I didn't even tell my best friend until after they'd been put into place. It was my mom's idea of a birthday present, and her worst one yet. She'd told me that I'd be happy for the gift of straight teeth, something that would last me a lifetime, but I still don't see the potential.

Either way, not only did I have to present a new freak-face to the school, but I had to parade myself during the ceremony. Not only that, but with new obstructions blocking my lips and tongue I struggled with the smallest every day words. Tomorrow I would have to read fucking Hebrew.

I was honestly ready to shoot myself.

Stan laughed gently at me, which only made my face turn even more sour. "I love the way you say my name. It's all like, Shhtan." I glared at him, giving him my best death stare. If he wasn't so damn handsome I'd kill him.

Eventually I dragged myself to school. Of course Cartman made comments about my new mouth, but I was smart enough to keep it shut. If he herd me slurring there was no way I was going to ever recover. Then again, he would be coming tomorrow. Everyone would. Another wonderful gift from my mother; a party consisting of all my 'friends'. I only saw it as more witnesses to my humiliation.

Somehow I fell asleep that night, dreaming that I wouldn't make a fool of myself. I could live with embarrassing myself in front of my friends and family but not in front of Stan. In puberty I was growing more accustom to the feelings I had for him and though I wouldn't admit it, they were turning romantic. No. They were always romantic, they were turning more... lustful.

Either way, by ten that morning I was dressed and shoved into the nearest synagogues, about ready to shit my pants. The crowed came, greeting me kindly and bringing me gifts, telling me how great they were sure I was going to be. If I had been able to eat that morning I was sure I would have thrown up.

I looked for an escape, to get away from the bustling people and practice my pronunciation a few more times. I spotted my brother, yawning and trying to make sure our aunt was entertained enough to pass my mother a few good words about him. I all but ran to him, excused us as politely as I could, and dragged him off to the men's room.

"Ikie, listen to my-" I attempted to order as I slumped against the sink.

"Kyle no! I've herd it two million times! I'm sick of it!" Ike had been getting a bit cranky lately since all our parents attention was on me. At the time I didn't understand and instead begged him for help.

"Please! Ike I'm gonna fuck up I know it!"

"Dude, we're in a holy place, watch your mouth."

"I'm going to kill you." I muttered, but the threat wasn't too terrifying since my mouth was gargling excess spit. I swallowed, trying to get used to the new sensation and order of doing things that once didn't even need concentration.

"Look. I'll write a couple of notes on your hand. Mom will think you memorized it, so will the entire population of South Park, and you'll be golden."

I agreed, letting him sketch on the inside of my palm as I checked my braces for food.

I don't remember how I got up in front of everyone, or how I started my prayer. All I remember is the Rabbi that smelt like baby powder. But I do remember the most humiliating moment in my life. I was growing in confidence, almost through. All I needed to do was get past a few more seconds of this. In a slightly smug singsong voice I glanced at my hand to be sure. "I reh lay lob day-ks."

I reh lay lob day-ks.

I really love dicks.

_I really love dicks. _

My face flared as I prayed that no one would notice. I continued in a quieter voice until a snicker proved my worst suspicions. It was Cartman. Of fucking course. That set off a chain reaction. Every adolescent was nearly falling off their chair. Some parents and family members also joined in – including my father. But no one was laughing harder than my little brother.

In a moment of anger I walked off, not running or crying. Just walking as calmly as possible. I felt numb. I couldn't even get a good look at Stan. I bet he was laughing the hardest. Suddenly I hated him for no reason other then my creation of how he might of reacted.

Not five minutes later the door to the bathroom where I once again took refuge in opened. I expected my mother – a men's only sign wouldn't stop her – or even my father, but instead I saw shiny black hair and a wide smile.

"You like dick?" Stan questioned, before sliding in and shutting the door. All I needed to do was life my hand for him to sigh in understanding. "Ahh... Ike? Hm... well I wish he would have told me before I got you this," he lifted up a small box with plain wrapping. It looked incredibly normal next to my lavish party and I was barely able to get excited about it.

Then, I remembered it was Stan's. Stan picked it out for me. No matter what it was I'd treasure it. I opened up the box cautiously before giving Stan a gentle smile. A black and white yarmulke was upside down, folded multiple times so it could cradle a small Star of David linked on a leather chord. "Stan..." I said softly, not sure of what to say. It was personal, it was kind, it was... romantic.

Stan was shuffling uncomfortable above me, until he noticed I was watching him and gave his famous grin. "Dude, you're crying." He laughed. "If it makes you feel better you can have my dick too."

**Oh, wow! That was the longest I've ever made a story... I hope it was good! I'm not Jewish, and I don't know any Jews, so the whole, bar mizvah thing was horrifying to write! Please review, they really get me going faster and make my life better! Btw, I do have an idea in my mind for the next chapter, and my RP site is down, so I'll update a lot sooner haha. **


	12. Love

**Okay, so this is more of a linking chapter.. so please don't hate me for it being kinda suckish :)**

So, maybe I lie to myself when I say that Stan was my first and only love. He wasn't, but in a way I'm glad. Falling and failing through love helps everyone find what they want in a partner. If I'd followed my instincts all along, I would have always asked myself what I could have been missing. But now I know that when I admit to myself how much I really love Stan, I know it's not just a feeling. Love is tangible. At least true love is, and that's what I labeled my feelings for Stan with.

After never really being able to give myself a hard on thinking about a few girls I'd dated I had decided that I was gay. Or at least admitted it to myself. But this isn't the story of my coming out (I'd gotten the courage to tell Stan much later in life) it's the story of the first man I ever truly loved, and thankfully it wasn't Stan.

As I walked down the sidewalk, dragging Ike alongside me, I toyed with the money between my fingers. My mother had gotten sick of Ike and I laying around the house and in an attempt to fix her predicament, shoved twenty dollars in my one hand and my little brother's constantly sticky arm in the other. Not really sure what to do with a cranky ten year-old, I came to the conclusion that food is always the best answer.

We were making our way to South Park's newest pizza joint. It was a restaurant in that despite the need for another coat of paint and a good scrubbing, they made the best and greasiest pizza around and it was where all my classmates were waisting their time. I figured Ike would like to hang out with the big-kids and I could scope out a few of my friends.

Turned out I needn't wait that long. I spotted Kenny's bright orange coat in contrast against the consistently white sky of South Park. I couldn't see the boy walking next to him with a gait that oozed confidence. It wasn't Stan's playful walk that made him look like he was back out on the soccer field or preforming in some odd dance that forced him to hop, skip or jog every few steps. The form was too thin to be Cartman and if it were him I would have herd some comment about my mop-hair by now.

The couple came to a stop next to us and Kenny gave me an almost wolfish grin. I'm pretty sure Kenny always knew I was gay. Since I can remember he's flirted with me a bit more than he did with the other guys and now he was pushing an inhumanly handsome boy in front of me.

He had shaggy black hair that was perfectly straight, and lined his face in a way that made me long to stroke my finger's through it if only to mess it. Just like Stan. But that was where the similarities ended.

While Stan's muscles were his more prominent figure, this boy's were lean and long. Like an underlying danger that I wanted to feel the full potential of. While Stan's face still held it's childhood roundness and innocence, the boy before me had a permanent lazy smirk and more jutting facial structure. And most importantly Stan had bright blue eyes but the orbs staring back at me were a blood red.

"This is Damien. Judging by the look on your face I can tell you're going to get along perfectly." Kenny said with a smile. Before I realized what was happening – or had a second to close my mouth for that matter – Ken had his hand around my brother's wrist, leaving me with Damien. I didn't mind at all, of course. Frankly I didn't even care where they went. So long as I got a few more minutes with another raven.

"I remember you." Damien said with a grin and took a step closer to me. I wasn't normally the flirtatious type, but I suddenly had a surge of pent up energy. The boy looked enough like Stan to make me pleased, and besides this, he was undeniably handsome. Even if I were straight I'd still fall for him.

"Not many people forget me," I countered, trying to let him know just how sure of myself I was, even though this was a lie. I could tell by the look in his eyes that he was expecting me to back down from him. To give him the satisfaction of overpowering another person, but that wasn't going to happen. "Just in case your memory fails, my name's Kyle."

His smile grew a bit more crooked and he let out a breathy laugh. Damien folded his arms across his chest and I knew this was a battle of a certain kind. Who could outlast the other, who was more determined to act unfazed by their seducer. "Kyle," he mulled for a second while I watched his face for some underlying emotion. I couldn't find anything – another difference from Stan who laid out his feelings on a table for one to analyze.

"And I remember you." I said, straightening my back so I'd be a bit closer to his hight. I fucking hate being short. "You were the bitch that ignited our playground."

For a second he simply stared at me, stunned that I'd talk to him that way. But within a few second he recovered his normal cool swagger and laughed as if I hadn't caught him off guard at all. "You know, if you weren't so damn adorable you'd be on fire."

"Fire?" I leaned in a bit closer, a playful smirk dancing on my lips. "How original. You mustn't be lacking in creativity and all."

He laughed again as if my flirtations were humorous, and I had to admit that they were. I was never really the best at being attractive and I couldn't blame him if he did decide to laugh off my advances. But he seemed to like them. I mean, I wasn't burning and at this point it could only be taken as a good sign. "Oh, so you're already trying to figure out all my secrets? Well you have a long way to go. But luckily I'm willing to give you all the time you want to figure it out."

**Yes, I paired off Damien and Kyle. I think they'd get along well... I did it as a crack pairing once, and wasn't too crazy about them, but the more I thought about it the better they seemed together. Sure Pip is cute, but total opposites can only last so long. Kyle and Damien have their tempers linking each other XD So please review, I will except flames, because this did suck. It was only a transversal, so I promise something better is coming :)**


	13. Hands

"And then we went to this old oracle, and he let me ask whatever I wanted-"

"Kyle. Please shut the fuck up." Stan groaned, and my face contorted sourly. He was lounging on his bed, his head hanging off the one end while his feet aimlessly kicked on the opposite end of the mattress. I sat contained on Stan's rolling office chair. I blame my mother's relentless edict drilling for the fact that I couldn't sprawl out in the place that had become my second home. "This is, like, the first time you've seen me in two months because you've been attached at the hip with your new squeeze, and now all you're doing is talking about him. I'm getting pretty goddamn sick of it."

I huffed and glared out the window. I had come out to Stan a while ago, and all had gone well. He didn't hate me, which meant that any reaction would be better than the scenario I had played out over and over again in my mind. Stan had joked around a bit, teasing me and fabricating a few new nicknames that he still uses, even after all these years.

"Look, I dealt with you and Wendy. You can listen to my love life a bit. And at least I'm not rambling about drama-"

"You're rambling about pure shit." Stan corrected, and I herd a leg kick against the bed frame. Stan was entering a cynical asshole phase, which meant he was more prone to say what he wanted without any sugar coating. I had to admit, I missed the sugar coating.

"Damien isn't pure shit." I sounded a bit defensive, even to myself. Sure, I had only started seeing him to make Stan jealous, not to mention the fact that he reminded me of my super best friend. In personality aspects the two were complete opposites, but when I first saw Damien I thought he looked enough like Stan to be able to pretend. Over time, I'd realized I truly had feelings for him. I'd fallen for the thick eyebrows and toothy grin.

Silence followed before I herd Stan mutter a, "whatever," and go back to kicking his bed.

I hated fighting with him. And though I had to swallow my pride, I made the first attempt at a peace offering. "Anyway, the oracle read my palm. Gimmie your hand. I'm pretty sure I can read you your future."

This obtained Stan's attention, as his head perked up. He took a moment to deem my whether my intentions were kind, before wriggling to an upright position. He faced me, his eyes interested in what his future had to say. He was acting as if he actually believed I had a fucking clue about what I was doing. Yeah, Damien treated me like a fucking king the way he spoiled me (probably because I was the center of whatever kindness he had) but asking for physic lessons must have slipped my mind.

I rolled my chair up so I was sitting inches from Stan. Though I loved Damien, my heart would never stop skipping a beat when I came close to my best friend.

I took his hand in my own, turning it over gently. I ran my own fingers over his hand, feeling the callouses from countless sports against my fingertips. I traced the lines embedded into his flesh. My fingers made a trip back up his arms, using his most prominent vain as my guide.

"Um... Madam Kyle?" Stan pulled my attention back to earth and my surroundings. I didn't realized how fascinated I was with the most mundane aspects of Stan's body. I'd never touched him as intimately as I was now and in return my own body wasn't having the best reactions. I noticed my breath had hitched and my pants were slightly straining. Perfect.

I only blushed and bit the inside of my cheek. After all, what can one say when they're caught basically arm-humping their straight best friend?

I unhinged myself from his forearm with an almost painful expression.

"Kylie~" Stan sang, attempting to get me to talk by annoying me with one of his petnames.

"Don't call me Kylie." I sputtered out.

"So...? What's the diagnosis?"

"You have the perfect makings of a first-class asshole."

**So I hope this makes up for my last jank update :P it's a bit of Kyle and Stan fluff. I know Stan was supposed to be a cynical asshole at ten, but when Matt and Trey throw these obstacles at us fangirls, it just makes everything harder, so I'm changing the story a bit, haha. So, please review and tell me if it's any good or if I should be working in a different direction :)**


	14. Death

"Kyle, I swear to fucking God, if I shit myself because of you," Stan threatened, but left it open and therefore nearly meaningless.

"Oh it's not like this is your first horror movie," I rolled my eyes. I'd gotten over feeling up Stan's arm, and that night I'd pestered him into agree to a movie that Damien given me when I saw him last. He was a horror junkie, much like myself but Stan on the other hand couldn't stomach a man cutting off his own leg. He was a bit pitiful in that aspect.

Though I had to give him some credit – this was the scariest piece of shit I'd seen in my life. On top of that, Stan had his own television in his room, which made the it seem like we were the only one's alive, sitting in a dark room where I could barely make out Stan's expression.

The television let out a belch of a scream and while I merely blinked, Stan did look ready to shit himself. The film continued and instead of watching it, I had my eyes of Stan. He was meant to be the masculine one, but frankly, at that moment he was a complete pussy and I didn't mind it. I kind of liked it. It had a charming twist.

"Okay, done. Time for bed." Stan announced the second we saw the first list of names in the ending sequence. He switched on a light, something I forbid during the movie and sat next to me on the bed. "Com'mon Ky, get your scrawny ass off my sheets." He started tugging at the blanket under me as if some monster was chasing him and the only safe haven was under the covers.

"S-Stan? I think I hear something outside..." I lied, trying for my best terrified face. Maybe Damien was getting to me and I was becoming more evil than I thought. Normally I couldn't lie for shit, my acting was horrible and I usually bust out laughing at the most inconvenient times but Stan was already jumpy so I needn't push him far before he had a breakdown.

He stopped all his moments and, wide eyed, stared at me. "I'm going to go make sure the door is locked." I added, sliding out of the room. I closed the door, but made sure that a small sliver was left open. And with that I too a few steps then let out my most terrified gasp, falling to the floor.

I had to bite the inside of my cheek to stop from giggling, but I added a bit of a twist, turning my head to the opening in the door, knowing that was all Stan could see. "St-Staaan..." I let out my lest words before my eyes glazed over and my jaw went slack as I let out my best 'dying' sound.

I wasn't sure what I was expecting, but I knew I couldn't wait to see his reactioin. At first I was certain Stan wouldn't believe me, but looked pretty fucked over. I pressed a nail into my finger to regain composure.

"Kyle!" Stan finally screamed and threw himself at my lifeless body. He pulled me by my arms, refusing to come out of the room for fear of whatever got me. It hurt a bit, but I had to act as if I couldn't feel I thing. Though my eyes were staring blankly at the ceiling, I could hear the bedroom door click as he locked it.

"Kyle, tell me where it hurts," Stan said, this time purely panicked. He shook me by my arms, bent over my body. He must have figured out that this wasn't working because he pulled my into his chest, one hand on the back of my head, holding it to his shoulder, while his arm kept me pressed against his torso.

This was nice. Better than I expected.

Suddenly I could feel his chest heaving and I didn't know if it was from his asthma or if I'd made him cry in fear. I didn't want to stop, but Stan had also reflexively pulled me tighter against him and I couldn't breathe. I didn't really want to die, so I let out a gurgle.

"I... want... to... eat... your... penis..." I muttered, blinking my eyes back to reality, and tugging at the back of his shirt.

"Kyle!" This time my name was said with anger, and Stan dropped me to the floor.

I hit the ground, with a loud thunk, but that could hardly be herd over my laughter. "Jesus Christ!" I managed, tears rolling down my cheeks, and my stomach crunching. I was too busy trying to get my breath back to even notice what Stan was doing.

When I got back my bearings Stan was in his bed, back facing me and the light turned off. "Aw, come on, Stanny~" I sang, grin on my face but I was worried I might have gone too far. I picked myself up off the floor, and curled into the bed next to Stan.

"I'm sorry." I tried to sound serious and wrapped my arm around him to make sure he was fine. Peering over his shoulder I could see the glisten of a few tears on his cheeks and to make up for it, I kissed his neck.

**Oh, Kyle is a bitch XD I blame his new boytoy, haha. Please R and R, it will make Stan stop crying~ **


	15. Woods

**Hey guys! I wanna thank all my amazing loyal readers, you guys are great! Seriously, you make my day! And if you're a newbie, I love you too, thanks for reading this far! I hope you have as much fun as I do!**

Damien took a drag out of what seemed his millionth cigarette in less than half an hour. Normally I didn't give a fuck whether or not he smoked near me. Sure, my mother would kill me if she ever figured out, but I hadn't even told her of my sexuality. I usually had myself wrapped in Damien's jacket, because he hated bringing me to Hell and it was too cold to be without it, so most of the smell stayed woven in the fabric when I handed it back to my boyfriend. Besides, Damien had a way of releasing the smallest bit of smoke between my lips whenever he leaned in to kiss me and no punishment would ever bring me away from that.

We'd decided to visit Starks Pond. I couldn't bring Damien to my home, and we wanted something a bit more privet than a mall or the movie theater since I'd only come out to a few choice people. I didn't mind, it gave me an excuse to curl up to him. We didn't exactly talk, I watched smoke mixed with freezing air lift from his slightly parted lips. Every few minutes, he'd lift my chin, kissing me deeply. Everything was so still, it was like the world froze over and I was perfectly happy to be in this spot for the rest of my life.

"Can I try?" I asked as I saw Damien spark up a second fag. He looked at me for a second like he couldn't believe it. I couldn't really make sense of my own words. The phrase, My Mom Would Kill Me, came into my mind again and I only wanted to do it more out of pure spite.

"Sure," He handed it to me, and my clumsy fingers found a comfortable way to hold it. I'd only tried once before and ended up setting a building on fire, but I doubted that that would be an issue when dealing with the Prince of Hell.

I brought it to my lips, inhaling deeply before I felt my lungs light on fire. I coughed wildly, trying to get my breath back. Somewhere during my fit, Damien had taken the lit object from my grasp, and was laughing brightly.

"It's not funny." I choked out.

"I think it is." He said with a smirk. Shit, I could tell a fight was starting. Both of us were stubborn as fuck, and once started, nothing could stop us. Frankly, I was just happy he didn't ignite me yet.

"No one asked you," I managed and Damien looked about ready to reply before we were interrupted by a frill screech.

"Kyle!" I saw a flash of purple and black hair racing to me before I was lifted from the bench and into a fluffy coated body. "What brought you to this? Why would you do this?" I merely blinked and Damien went into another set of hysterical laughter. I really wished I could kick his ass now, but Wendy wasn't letting me go. I glanced around, seeing Bebe standing with her mouth open and a pair of skates in her hand. Apparently they'd come to skate, but thought that goody-goody Kyle would ever try anything risky had stunned them out of it.

Wendy hadn't taken any notice to Damien, and instead was hugging me closely as if I'd known her my whole life and this was my intervention. She was babbling and I'd tuned most of it out, trying to find a way out of her arms. I know what you're thinking, but trust me, she's a lot stronger than one would think. "Stan's coming to meet us here, he'll talk some sense into you."

That was all I herd, or bothered to hear. After a few agonizing moments of Wendy lecturing me, and Bebe flirting with my boyfriend who seemed to be enjoying Wendy's charades.

"Stan's here." I muttered, pushing her away with a burst of strength. But Wendy had different plans and had tugged me up the snow covered mountain, complaining about my one drag and telling the entire story before I was even sure Stan could hear her.

He must have gotten the gist though, because he was frowning, but that was also becoming a standard reaction for whenever he saw Damien.

Wendy pushed me into him, and I would have blushed if I wasn't so utterly pissed off. I hated when she thought she owned everyone, and could make me bend to her will. Kind of reminded me of my mother. "Stan, I think it's best we just cancel. I mean, it's obvious Kyle is going through a rough patch in his life and I think he really needs his best friend. I'll skate with Bebe, we can figure something else out. In the mean time, you make sure he doesn't try to kill himself."

The only person I wanted to kill was her.

She leaned in, kissing Stan's cheek and whispering obnoxiously loud, "I think it's sexy when you get all concerned." I almost puked.

Turning on her heals she marched back to the pond, seemingly happy since she saved another troubled youth. I rolled my eyes.

There was an uncomfortable silence, Stan and I hadn't really been getting along the best lately. In the coerce of one month I'd triggered two mini-asthma attacks, but in my defense the air quality was shit and he was getting a bit touchy when it came to his throat closing up. How the hell was I supposed to know that faking my own death would scare him into crying, and taking ten puffs of his inhaler while his head was dangling between his knees?

"You smell awful," Stan said finally, breaking the quietness.

"Thanks, asshole." I wasn't really in the best mood. I didn't need to get nagged at for one puff of a fucking cigarette. I glanced back at the pond; Damien was impressing Bebe with his skating skills even though he was in combat boots. Honestly I think Bebe was more impressed with flirty smirk and muscled body. I didn't have the patients to even try to get jealous. Wendy was death glaring her boyfriend, and I cracked a smile at this.

Apparently Stan noticed because he walked into the nearby woods, trying to get us some privacy. We settled in, deep enough to be able to be unseen by Wendy's hawk-like eyes.

"Look. Before you even start -"

"I'm not going to say anything." Stan interrupted, and I blinked in wonderment. Stan hated smoking. He hated drinking. He hated anything that normal teenagers were willing to give a left nut to try. I was so worried to disappoint, but he seemed... like he was expecting it.

We stood a few more seconds and I got the courage to speak again. This was worst than getting chewed out. "I know what you want to say. That Kyle fucked up so bad, so many times that you don't even care now. You don't care about anything."

"Would you stop telling me what I'm thinking?" He snapped and I physically shifted back. Stan never snapped at me. He knew my temper better than anyone and he knew how to get me to stop my so called bitching. This wasn't like him at all.

More stillness that seemed to make my eardrums bleed.

"Would you say something?" I asked finally. I just wanted to hear him, hear that he still loved me, because part of me knew that the only reason I ever started to love Damien was to turn him into a cheep replica of Stan. I couldn't be pushing him away when all I wanted was to hold him close.

"Like what? Like how you're turning into a total asswipe like Hell-Boy? Or how you take our friendship for granted? Or how you treat me like I'm fucking shit now?" He might as well have sliced through my chest with the blade of his skates.

"I'm not turning into him," I tried, but it was a weak defense. I'd fallen from the honor roll, I took pleasure in scaring the shit out of Stan, I cussed out my brother when he walked into my room, I lied to my mom about where I was going, and I made out with my boyfriend in the Denver mall just for the hopes that someone would say something and I could start a fight.

"Whatever."

"Oh, like you're any better?" I hissed. "You don't care about anything anymore. You're not even Stan." Tears weld in my eyes and I had no idea why. We never fought, but this was hardly a real fight. I wasn't pushing anything, or screaming at the top of my lungs. Maybe it was the realization that my whole definition of fighting changed. That my whole definition of everything changed. All this pent up anger that wafted from Damien to me... it wasn't anything like Kyle. I wanted to be Kyle. Kyle never gave Stan asthma attacks then blamed his throat for closing up. Kyle went hysterical until Stan assured him all would be fine. Kyle didn't fight with Stan. Kyle didn't let Wendy touch him. Kyle didn't act like a total douche.

Suddenly, I needed Stan. More than anything I needed to have him near me. This wasn't some sort of want, like when I first found out Stan was the cause of the butterflies in my stomach. It was like the need for air.

I pulled myself into Stan's chest, digging my face into the material of his coat. His warmth, his smell.. it was all perfect. It made me remember who I was.

Stan tentatively lowered his head to my neck and I didn't beging to guess what was going on in his mind. If this was romantic or not. I just -

Stan pushed me away, heaving for air. It didn't sound like normal-Stan-breathing and for once in a great while, I gave a shit. Wheezing forced him to sit, trying to regain his composure and I knelt along with him. No matter how many times I saw this, it freaked the shit out of me.

"Stan? Are you okay?" He didn't answer, just put his head in his hands, concentrating on even breaths. I racked my mind for something to help. Inhaler. I patted Stan's pockets, shamlessly and frantically though I knew it was in vain. If he had it he wouldn't have waited this long to use it. "Fuck, Stanley! You're supposed to bring the goddamn thing with you everywhere!" But talking like that would only scare him and make it worst.

I had to do something, but I didn't know what. I could lay him down like I was instructed to do if my diabetes ever got out of control, but that might make it harder. I could feed him melted snow, wash the mucus from his airways or more likely give him something else to breath around.

In the end I settled with doing what I saw Mrs. Marsh do after she handed Stan his inhaler. I got behind him, put my hands on his shoulders, and stroked a thumb against his bicep, increasing friction so he could feel me below the layers of clothing. "It's okay." I murmured, steadying my voice for him. I leaned in, kissing the back of his head without a second thought. If I lost him...

But I already had. We spoke three times including this one all month and each time he'd ended up so stressed or scared that he was wheezing. The month before that, I only texted him once.

"Just breathe." I coaxed, my own breath blowing a few strands of his black hair.

"Take your fucking clothes off." He growled, or at least I thought it was a growl. It was a bit hard to understand him.

At first I was stunned by the request. Happy, since my dream had come true, but insulted because he thought he could get me to strip without even kissing me. Then I remembered I'd been doused in smoke all day.

Without a moments hesitation I ripped off Damien's sweater, my T-shirt and even my pants. The bitter cold bit at my skin, but I ignored it. In fact, after tossing my clothes as far into woods as I could, I threw myself at the ground, making a snow angle, and rubbing a bit into my curls. The cold bit at my skin, but I didn't mind. The thought of saving Stan gave me inner warmth.

Damp, shivering and suddenly self conscious I returned to rubbing Stan's back.

He seemed fine after a few moments, removing his jacket and handing it to me. "You're a fucking nerd dude." He said affectionately, standing up and wrapping an arm around my shoulder. "And now people are going to talk. I'm breathless, flushed and sweaty. You're naked, in my jacket, and covered in snow, sticks, leaves and shit. I think your boyfriend might kill me."

"I think Wendy's who we need to worry about." I laughed slightly, covering as much as I could.

Today was amazing; I kissed Stan.

**Aww... I know this is rushed and a lot longer than I'm used to, but I'm sick of beating around the bush! I want to write Stan and Kyle love already! So please review, it means a lot to me :) **


	16. Babies

**Hey guys! I'm on a super long road trip, so I decided to write something light hearted and cute. I was kind of missing the little Stan and Kyle, so I brought them back as kids again. I hope you like it! **

"Stan! You'll never guess what my mom got me!' I yelped, swinging my feet as I sat on the chair beside the telephone, since they couldn't reach the floor when I sat back. I was incredibly antsy. I wanted to get upstairs to see my new toy again, but I had to tell my super best friend about it as well.

"A puppy?" Stan made a few attempts at guessing, but each fell short of the glory of my true gift.

Finally I broke and begged him to come over. His mother allowed him to walk over to my house which was only a few blocks away from his. My own parents still didn't allow me go outside of the yard without one of them, but it was all okay. I couldn't very well carry my present since I didn't want it to brake.

Stan arrived in about half an hour though to me it felt like days. Grabbing his hand the second he walked through the door, I pulled him upstairs to the new room I'd helped my father paint. It was a pale blue, much like my old room. Since I helped decorate the new one, my parents agreed to paint mine as well. But that wasn't what I was excited about.

"Look," I pointed to the new room, and dragged Stan in behind me. Peering over a metal bar, we both looked at what was inside. "He's the size of a football! I bet you can kick him really far! And he has black hair like you! Plus if you poke him, he either cries or giggles, it's amazing!"

"It smells." Stan wrinkled his nose, and pulled away.

"It's cool!" I yelped in defense which earned a me a scolding from my mother.

"Kyle! I thought I told you not to bother your brother!" If this was happening now I would have been first to point out that my mother was the one screaming down the hall, and that all I was doing was showing off a new member of my family. But I just turning seven, so I obeyed, and marched out of the room with my best friend.

"Where do you think it came from?" Stan asked as we walked to my room. He took a seat on my floor, tugging my bin of Leggos out so we could build something. It was always easier with two people constructing the city.

"I herd from that one kid that talks weird, that a boy and a girl make them." I grinned, proud that I knew where kids came from.

"How?" Stan insisted.

"Maybe it's a kiss. Thats what parents do, right?" I offered with a shrug.

"That's it?" Stan raised his eyebrows. "Maybe we should have one! That way we can play with it without your mom telling us to be quiet."

"Later." I sat next to him, picking up a few blocks and putting them together. "It's too loud. And we'll need a bigger bed." Stan looked at me questioningly and I decided to clear things up. "Parents sleep in the same bed, duh."

"I hate sleeping with you. You slap and kick too much." Stan pouted.

I matched his face. "I do not!"

"Do too."

"Well you breath weird!" I countered though I knew it was in vain.

"I'm sick!" Stan replied but we both broke out in laughter. It was something I was always proud I could do with Stan. No matter what was happening we always ended up giggling and grinning. But now as I look back on it, I only wish that Stan would have my babies.

**That was short compared to my other chapters! Again, I hope no one minds that I'm not going in order with their age. I just missed having a totally dirty undertone with completely naive kids, haha. So please, review and tell me what you think! They really inspire me :D**


	17. Cabins

**Well this proves I have no life. I'm at the beach and I'm writing Style :) But I love my readers too much to leave any of you for long! Thanks for all your kind words and subscriptions and favorites, I really do appreciate it! Makes my life! **

"Stan this is freaky as hell." I muttered, looking around and analyzing my surroundings. Stan was dragging me through the forest, pulling me by the sleeve of my coat. It wasn't cold, but the wind was picking up, and besides that, the dark clouds in the sky were chilling me to the bone.

Distantly, I was trying to think about how the hell Stan was doing this without shitting his pants. Normally I was the more fearless one, at least when it came to things that were supposed to give one the creeps. For instance, I was the one who killed the spiders that crawled in Stan's room, or the one that kicked away a snake in the yard. But when it came to being a risk taker... well, that was Stan's area of expertise.

"Says the guy dating the devil's son." Stan snorted and gave my arm a particularly strong tug forward. We were on better terms now that Stan and I had our little fight, and I'd made sure that I gave him more time. In return, Stan did the same regarding Wendy; we'd set up two days a week just for us. To work on our friendship, though it was like a lot of teasing to me. I'd almost get to have Stan the way I wanted him, but yet he was so far and untouchable. All I needed was one 'slipped hand' and I'd have the perfect situation where Stan could either back out of the intimacy, or go for it all. But I never got the nerve myself to do it. Needless to say, it drove me insane.

"It's gonna rain," I whined and as if the universe was on my side a clap of thunder echoed through the forest. Thankfully in South Park we never got much rain. All water falling from the sky froze before it hit, but we were in our form of summer. Everyone still needed a jacket, the ground was mushy and gross from access water, and at most it lasted a month.

"I don't think you'll melt. Anyway, we're here."

I looked up, since I'd been watching the ground so intently. Falling on my face would not really be attractive. I couldn't name where I was, but I could see a small, dark patch of a house nestled at the top of particularly thick tree. "Stan..." I hesitated, but my feet silently moved with his. "If I didn't know you better I'd think you took me here to kill me..."

"It's Uncle Jimbo's old hunting cabin, for shit's sake, Ky." He pushed me ahead of him, handling me as if I were a limp rag doll rather than a fully capable adult. But in my defense I was just happy my legs were standing up straight. One thing about horror movies: you forget the difference between film and real life.

"I can't climb Stan, I have like, no upper body strength and I hate heights." I continued to complain, but my arms made contact with the rope ladder. I hesitantly hoisted myself as Stan hled the makeshift ladder from flapping around in the wind. I scurried up, trying not to think of the bottom. I pulled myself up on the board that the ladder was attached to, and opened a door that was only really a few pieces of wood held together with ten nails and two hinges. It, along with the ladder, was a slave to the wind and I opened it easily, and gazed down to see how I could help Stan. He had already made his way halfway up, so I decided I could simply walk into the small cabin.

It was nothing exciting, really just a wooden house, a single bunk bed and a counter lining a mini-fridge. At least it kept the wind out. I just prayed that there wasn't some maniac.

Suddenly I herd metal clinking, probably signaling that the door was bolted against the wind. Before I could inspect to be certain that it wasn't some freak I felt arms slip around my waist and a warm breath brushing against my neck.

Normally I would have shit my pants, but I knew Stan's sent like the back of my hand. Grassy, even in the rain and snow he smelt like the first real day of spring. Fresh cut grass, moss, and mud. But the manly sent mixed with cinnamon and it created something I'd never be able to mistake as a murderer.

On the other hand, I was completely at a loss as to why he was holding me so gently. "Stan...?" I whispered softly, terrified to break the salience because he might leave me, but at the same time I couldn't lead myself on.

He slipped away from me, just as suddenly and a violent clap of thunder shook the cabin. I nearly wet myself at that moment and with that train of thought, the world emptied just about all the water in the oceans over South Park in a rainstorm.

I shivered, suddenly cold without Stan there to hold me. He must have interpreted my shake to be one from the chill since he sat against small window under the bunk bed, pulling down a blanket with him. He gestured, and I followed, sitting next to him.

"I used to love this place." Stan said softly, wrapping the blanket that was around his shoulders, around my own. In order for this to work I needed to sit in between his legs, my back against his chest and his arms around my shoulders, holding the sheet in place. "I used to beg my uncle to take me, but I got called a pussy every time because I'd also have to shoot something. Not worth it."

Another shudder of thunder, and I closed my eyes in bliss. "Stan? Why are you... acting like this? I mean, hugging me and everything.. not that I don't like it... it's just not like you."

"Well..." He paused and took a deep breath. "Ky, I'm gay."

**Oooooh.. bet you thought you were getting Stan and Kyle lovings? Ahaha, I'm sucking you into another chapter! My dream is to turn this into something as good as Fire, which everyone should know of. If not, check it ouut. But please, review and tell me if I'm doing okayy :) **


	18. Butters

**Oh, gosh! I don't think I've ever got more people all so anxious for Kyle to react, haha! I had to give you guys something good for your wait! Thanks to all the readers, all the subscribers, and all the reviewers! **

"You're gay?" I sputtered, pulling away from Stan with all my might. For a second, the other looked at me a bit hurt and I couldn't truly blame him. I knew I was being cruel because Stan hadn't acted like this when I annoyed my sexuality. All he did was nod, ask if my mom knew, and offered his support in anything that I needed.

And here I was, edging away from my best friend who had just came out to me, and gaping at him with wide eyes. Stan couldn't be gay. He was straight as a flag pole. He dated Wendy for years, he had any girl he wanted. Besides that there was no way that this could be happening to me. Stan was gay, after years and years of me dying to get a chance to brush his hand. In a way I almost felt cheated, like I could have been doing such things all this time. But then the other side of my mind started reminding me that there was a strong chance he didn't feel for me like I did for him. Or even worst, it could be a sort of fling. A phase that he'd forget.

I started with the worst, the passing by lust. "Dude, I have some amazing porn sites... you know? See a few dicks and get over the idea of it all?"

He rolled his eyes. "I'm not into... penises." He muttered into his lap, suddenly interested in the palms of his hands.

"Then you aren't gay." I added, this time a bit gentler since I was beginning to realize just how much of an ass I was being. "Besides, you've been with Wendy since forever. There's no way you can be gay and into those tits."

"Goddamn it Kyle!" He cried out in frustration. "I don't need you questioning my sexuality!" He looked up, pain flashing in his eyes and I jolted back again. Shit, I hated hurting him. He always got this look in his eyes like he couldn't believe that I was doing this to him, then he turned hateful. Something that never fit well on his normally jolly face. "Why do you think I only went for her? She's fucking easy! I don't need to be into dicks to like a guy!"

"Who?" I hissed, anger flashing in my own eyes. Not enough to have the uprise of Stan being gay, but now I had the ultimate disappointment that he was in love. I transformed these emotions into more anger. That was easier to deal with.

Stan pinched the bridge of his nose before starting to speak again, this time in a calm voice. "This guy... he's so fucking perfect. Kyle," He sighed, "God his hair is like nothing I've ever seen... and his skin is this creamy color that would look albino on anyone else, but with him it's just so smooth and all I want is to touch him. And he's got these little freckles all over his nose and arms and stomach, and again, it would look stupid on anyone else but it just... looks perfect on him. And he's got these eyes," Stan had a lazy grin plastered on his face, seemingly calming himself into a stupid daydream with images of this perfect lover. I on the other hand was boiling over. The nerve of him! "They're huge and bright, and so fucking girly. Shit, sometimes I think I'm falling for a girl who's trying to pass as a guy but then the way he acts makes me rethink everything. He's so graceful and gentle but then he goes crazy. I think I lo-"

My hand strikes his cheek before I truly realize what I've done. "You asshole! You fucking player!" I screamed, tears coming from my eyes. Part from the mental frustration, and part from the fact that Stan was keeping my hand in his custody at a bone crushing strength. "Stan... let go..." I whined a few seconds later.

"Don't touch me again." He ordered and let me go, all anger coming back.

"How could you do this to me! With fucking Butters!" It had to be Butters, he was after all some sort of girly guy. He did have freckles and he was freakishly pale.

"I'm talking about you dumbass." Stan hissed, and threw my hand down by my side.

I blinked. "Me?" Nothing went through my mind. All I could think of was that this wasn't what I dreamed of. No flowers, no candies... just rain, thunder and creaking from the floorboards. Stan nodded, his eyes blazing with this odd fired.

I paused a second and fell into his arms, kissing him lightly. God, he was like electric. His lips were so soft, so firm and they fit perfectly against mine. I was so close I could feel his breathing against me, feel his lips quivering against mine. Shit, I could even feel his eyelashes.

So I didn't know why my throat was closing up. I couldn't breath, so I pulled away and a sob racked my chest. Tears fell from my eyes, and my body did the same, going into Stan's arms. He held me, bringing me down to rest under the blanket, on his lap, next to window that was getting pelted by rain.

"Kyle?" He asked softly, his cheek resting on my head.

"I'm sorry." I managed to get out, digging my face into his shoulder. God, he smelt perfect. "I just... I've been waiting so fucking – so fucking long for this," my fists curled next to my cheek, trying to deliver me some secrecy even though I was in Stan's arms. He never really saw me cry, and It was humiliating. He already thought I was fucking girly as Butters until I talked, I couldn't give him more evidence.

Stan didn't say anything dealing with that, and instead he sighed against my curls, brushing my hair. "What about Damien?" He asked in a quiet voice.

"He's got your hair. From behind I can almost forget that he has red eyes instead of blue." I gurgled from behind my hands.

Stan laughed, and gently pulled my hand away, exposing my blotchy face. "Kyle," He called me, smiling gently.

"Do you think I'm girly?" I asked quietly, looking up into his eyes.

"Well, you do have hips, you wear tighter jeans and you have the longest limbs I ever saw. But you open your fucking mouth, and I know who's the bitch with you and Damien. And let's just hope Damien doesn't mind getting it up the ass." I laughed and he kissed my forehead. This was so off and odd. To have him with me in the way that I dreamed of forever. At the same time, it was ordinary, like it was met to be.

**Oh gosh! I can't wait to put this up! I have a feeling I'm going to please a few people with a bit of love. I hope you enjoy, but I honestly have to say that I don't know if this story is going so well. I'm wondering if I should continue or not. I mean, if there's one person actually enjoying this, I'll continue but I feel like it's getting boring and stale and disorganized. Please give me a few thoughts and ideas :) With love, Anna 3 **


	19. Fire

"This is so gay, dude. So gay." Cartman stated in a flat tone, staring down at his pudgy stomach. We were all huddled in our own arms, completely pissed off with the school's new regulations. Stan, Cartman, Kenny and I were herded in a group along with the rest of our grade and none of us truly felt comfortable in our skimpy gym clothes. I hated the polyester shirt that, no matter how many sizes larger I ordered, always had a tight spot in the center that seemed to cling to my chest, while the rest bubbled and draped out against me. Needless to say, when I had a tight torso even though my arms were swimming in cloth and the bottom of the shirt fanned out like a skirt, I didn't look so attractive.

Cartman had it worst though, he ordered the largest size and it still didn't pull down over his ass crack when he bent down. I wasn't quite sure who had it worst: him due to the embarrassment or the witnesses.

Looking back, in middle school no one was happy with their body. It had a habit of doing odd things that confused us, so we naturally assumed it was a much more taboo and disgusting subject than what it was. Hell, once we got into Junior year we laughed when one of us got a random boner. Back then it was it was justifiable for suicide.

"Swimming classes?" Stan sputtered out, though he had nothing to complain about. Stan had the perfect body since he always played football, and the thought that he was fretting over something like this made me even more self conscious. If he had reason to worry than I sure as fuck did.

Instead of voicing my opinion, I crossed my arms over my chest, trying to fouled up my body so small that no one would ever see me.

That gym class was made to go on, the teachers forced us to continue dodge ball even with this heavy weight on our shoulders. I couldn't focus on the game, all I could think of was what Stan would say when he saw me practically naked. Since swimming trunks would let us keep too much of our dignity, speedos were required, and I really didn't want anyone getting that good of a look of my junk.

That weekend all of our parents received a note from the school, asking permission to take us to the community pool once a week for two hours until the end of the marking period. I didn't even bother begging my mom to pull me out, since by the time I realized she'd gotten the letter I'd also learned about a shopping trip she'd planned with Stan's mother.

That Saturday I was shoved into the backseat of Mrs. Marsh's car, trying to keep as much distance from Stan as I could in the small space. I seemed to think that if I didn't acknowledge him, he'd disappear. It wasn't enough that he got to see me in my speedo at school, but now he'd get to see me try on a million ill fitting ones at the mall.

"Oh, I'm so happy I got an excuse to go out to Denver," Mrs. Marsh gushed as she drove, seemingly missing on the hell that was unfolding two feet behind her. "Stanley is going through another one of his growth-spurts and I can't seem to keep up with him. I'm hopping I can get a few good paris of jeans before he gets even taller."

"Oh, I know exactly what you mean, Kyle's going to take after his father, I can just tell. What with how big he's gotten the past few months I wouldn't be surprised if he's taller than me by the end of the year."

Not a big compliment. My mother was a few inches away from being classified as a midget, and I didn't want to think that I'd turn out any shorter than that.

Stan and I didn't attempt to make any small talk during the ride. I think we both realized that there was a strong chance we'd never be able to show each other our faces by the end of the night.

Our shopping spree went as most did. Our mother's dragged us beside them as they squealed over handbags and shoes, regardless of the fact that the only reason we were there was for us. Stan and I were extremely interested in the carpeting that day, choosing to watch it rather than attempt to make eye contact or speak. It was times like this I truly thought of putting myself up for adoption.

The awkwardness only escalated when our parents found said item we came for. "Stanley, honey, what size do you think you need?" Sharon asked, as she fished through the rack, seemingly looking even though they were all the same color and her son hand't informed her of the size yet.

At that age the size completely reflected the size of our penises, and the question made us both blush so deeply I was dizzy. It was bad enough Stan had to know my size, but now his mother and mine had to know?

"Extra-extra-large." Stan replied in a mock-macho voice. It almost fooled me if he hadn't squeaked at the end.

"Stan, don't be a smart ass." She shoved a medium at his chest and jabbed a finger at the dressing rooms. Stan groaned and I almost felt bad for him. At least my mom wouldn't make me try anything on – she had an irrational fear that I'd get herpes or something from touching clothes that haven't been washed.

"If Stan's getting a medium I think you'll be fine in a small." My mother mulled and I no longer pitied Stan. In fact he snickered at me before walking past us and into the male dressing rooms.

I followed my mother for another ten minutes before someone spoke up about the fact that Stan hand't so much as peaked from his spot in the room. I was all but happy to go and check on him, since the chance of helping him if he'd gotten stuck made me want to castrate myself.

Either way, I dragged myself into the room, nocking on the only closed door. "Stan! You're mom wants to make sure everything fits, and we can't leave until you come out!"

"I can't." He muttered, sounding more annoyed than anything.

"Oh, come on! Just run out and-"

"Kyle no! You don't get it."

"Get what?"

"Is anyone there?"

I made an annoyed glance before reporting, "Negative. Talk."

"Can you go, like, get me a razor or something?" He asked, poking his head through the door.

"Why?" I asked stupidly, then answered the question myself. "You have pubes?"

"Shuttup dude!" Stan yelped and clamped a hand over my mouth.

"I wasn't yelling," I added, moving his hand and with an affirmative shove, I entered the room. For ten seconds I shamelessly ogled his junk. God, I wish he'd ask me to check his speedo now. I really should have been a more appreciative child with how many times I really got to check Stan out without shame.

Placing my hands on my hips I gave his nether areas a once over and shrugged accordingly. "Not a big deal dude... just like, tuck in the sides and you'll be fine. Honestly you can only see a little and that's only when you move like this," I shifted my hips to the side, doing a twist from my waist like I'd seen Stan do when he opened the door.

He looked like he didn't exactly believe me, but he must have figured that he didn't have any other choice. He could either trust me or we could all live out the reminder of our lives in the mall swimsuit section. A second later he asked another question. "Is yours like that?"

"What?" I asked stupidly, not expecting the question but then before Stan could repeat himself I'd sputtered an answer. "No!"

"Why not?" Again I delivered a look that explained how confused I was with Stan's new upfront style. I couldn't believe he was demanding me to explain my pubic hair to him! "Come on Kyle! It's not that big of a deal!"

"Yes it is!" One look at his determined face told me he wasn't going to stop. "It's red, okay? And it's not really all... straight-ish."

"So those firecrotch things aren't just stories?" He asked with a smirk and I pouted, staring at my crossed arms and refusing to respond. "You think you'll let me see?"

I stomped my foot, shoving my way out of the dressing room. "Go have fun with your speedo, jackass."


	20. Landslide

**So hey again! No auther's note last time :( Did you miss hearing from me and having to read this just because if you didn't it would annoy you? Oh, I'm just joking! I love you guys, and you are so kind with all your positive feedback, be it a review or a subscription or even just a read! Please, tell me what you think of in this chapter, since I'm trying something new and attempting to write more thought-y. Hope you all like! **

'I dont think we should keep doing this,' I typed on my phone, the letters clicking and sounding more like thunder than buttons. I knew what I had to do, I just felt horrible about saying it through a phone. But talking with Damien had never been easy, we couldn't carry on a conversation without arguing. He said that I was a slave to the whole "never's" and "always," supposedly I constantly told him that he "always did this" or "never did that." But Damien wasn't completely innocent himself, he had a way of act so nonchalant, so egotistical and it really struck a nerve deep inside me. I hated that I couldn't get him as wound up as I was when I was mad, and I hated that he always had to come out of everything with his dignitary in full tact.

We weren't a good couple, at least not for the long run. Though out fired spirits kept us together so long as we were fighting for the same cause, when we got into a disagreement the battles raged on for days and days. I couldn't keep up with the arguments and neither of us ever admired to loosing. Naturally, the fights only ended in a shallow makeout session.

Either way, it didn't matter what I had felt for Damien. After Stan and I shared that one heated kiss, Damien was in the back of my mind. I knew that our kiss was rash, and that I shouldn't be comparing it to a relationship that took time and effort. When I kissed Stan it was pure emotion. The only thing running through my mind was that I've liked him for years, and Stan was gay. I could kiss him, finally, and it came out like some sort of pent-up crash of sexual and romantic frustration. At that moment I needed him more than anything in the world. Yet I knew that I was risking a lot. I might have been complaining, but I did love Damien. And I knew he loved me too, and who could ask for more than that?

As I waited for Damien's reply, I thumbed a quick message to Stan. "Hey," I wrote, adding a winking face for good measure. Just as soon as I hit send, a message from Damien blinked on my screen. "Call me."

I didn't really want to talk to him, talking was more difficult. I could write things I didn't have the courage to admit to his face. Though with everything we had shared I suppose that the least I could give him was a phone call. Truthfully, I still loved him, and the thought that this might be our last conversation made me feel like sobbing.

Suddenly I looked up from my seat on my bed since I herd the characteristic crackling of fire. In a pillar of smoke, Damien appeared, arms folded over his chest even though his expression looked fearful. "Fuck the call. What's going on Ky?"

I stood up, and even though I was breaking everything off with Damien, I threw myself in his arms. I dug my face into the smell of sulfur and almonds. "I'm sorry." I muttered and hated myself even more for longing for Damien's comfort when I was leaving him basically for another man.

"Are you..." He let the sentence hang, but we both knew then ending. Softly, he wrapped his arms around me and squeezed against my waist. "Aw, fuck Kyle..." I felt his lips kiss my hair and I suddenly felt like I wasn't doing what was best. I could never get someone to love me this way, but then again no matter how much Damien loved me it didn't matter. I did love him, I just didn't fall **in** love with him. 

"I love you." I muttered against his neck in such a familiar way. "I always will... but I think that this has gone on for too long. We can find better. It's not fair to spend half of our time fighting, even if the times when we aren't are amazing."

"I know." He said simply and sadly. Damien was never really a talker. He preferred to speak through his actions. "And I love you too."

"Promise," I asked as I pulled away. "That this will never end. That we'll always be together in some way or another."

"With all my heart." Damien kissed my cheek and I bit back a sniff. Awkwardly, he shifted away, letting me go and I knew it was the last time I'd feel him hold me. "I need to go," He added quickly and with another pillar of smoke he was gone. I was thankful, I didn't want to cry in front of him, and I felt tears welding in my eyes already.

I spent two hours, two fucking hours sobbing into my pillow. I was fine at first, walking around the room aimlessly and waiting for Stan to message me back until I decided to change my shirt. The first thing I saw when I opened my closet was my shoe box that I'd hidden Damien's shirt in. I hated that I couldn't wear it anymore.

Finally, my eyes puffy and red, I pulled myself out of my pillow. I glanced at my phone, not sure who I wanted to hear from most, the boy I loved or the boy I always loved.

'It was a mistake.' I read, with Stan's name above the text.

I blinked as I felt my heart drop to the floor. He couldn't mean the kiss, I was just thinking about it since that was all I was thinking about since it happened. Stan was just... he was talking about our friendship. He wanted to step right into a relationship, I knew he did. I knew Stan more than I knew myself! And I knew that he couldn't be talking about that powerful, passionate kiss.

'It was the heat of the moment Ky. Im gay, and I like you but I dont think I can talk to you anymore.' Another message popped up. Tears sprang to my eyes, it wasn't the heat of the moment! I was waiting for that since I was old enough to know what kissing was! I let out another silent cry as I dug my head back into the pillow and hated myself for giving up someone amazing for the dream of finding someone better. I deserved this. I missed Damien, but more than that I missed the dream of what I thought I was with Stan.

**Poor Kyle! He's lost both of his men :( Break up scenes are hard and I really hope I put the emotion of them as a couple in through there end since I hadn't really focused on Damien and Kyle as a couple. I hope you guys can tell that they loved each other :( But let's see what Kyle will do with his uncooperative Stan! Please review xx **


	21. Dreidels

**Hey guys! Time to bring back the little kids again! I hope you enjoy and read and review, fav and subscribe! Thanks for all! I love you!**

"Hey guys? You know what? My mom said Santa's gonna get me something called a 'Vibrator 4000, with G-spot action.' How kewl is that?" Cartman bragged, sitting at his desk in the front of the room. It was the holiday season before third grade, and the first time that I really started noticing differences between myself and my friends.

For starters, I only knew Santa from a distant relationship and through mutual friends. I still had Mister Hankey the Christmas Poo, but he only brought me one present. And my eight gifts from Hanuka kind of blew ass. I couldn't help being jealous of Cartman's vibrator, even if I had no idea what I'd do with one. I just ducked my head and tried to work my best at my addition problems, despite the conversations surrounding me.

"That's gay." Stan blurted, balancing his pencil on his eraser in as many different ways as he could. "I wrote Santa a list. I told him I wanted more action figures."

"You have enough," I murmured, deciding that I didn't like being left out of anything. Even if it was about stupid Christmas.

"What's Santa giving you, Kahl? Oh that's right, you're a dirty Jew." Cartman pointed out, and howled with laughter. My jaw clenched, but I continued to do my work silently. I didn't like being so outwardly different, and I was too young to take pride in my religion. After all, it wasn't a religious thing. All I saw was that my friends woke up to millions of presents from this jackass Santa, and I only got a few from my parents.

"What's that got to do with anything?" Stan asked, trying to stand up for me but not realizing that he was only getting me in deeper shit.

"It means Jesus and Santa don't love him." Cartman informed, chewing on his pencil.

"No it doesn't Fat Ass!" I hissed, mostly irritated because that was my biggest fear. "It means that I get a present each night for eight nights, and I light candles instead of a tree."

"Oh," Stan raised his eyebrows. "Kick ass!"

"No, he gets lame presents like trattles or Jewy candy." Cartman rolled his eyes.

"They're dreidels and they sound more kick ass than your vibrater!"

"Oh yeah? My vibrater is guaranteed to make me scream with joy! Can your Jew-toys do that?"

"Yeah it can!" I lied and threw my pencil on the desk. "Every time I play with my dreidels I scream with joy!"

"I bet you do not! I bet I can play with them all day long and never scream with joy!" Cartman challenged.

"Then go ahead and play with them!"

"No, I'll get AIDs or something." Cartman rolled his eyes again, and continued to nibble his pencil.

"Kenny, what's AIDs?" Stan asked, and Kenny muttered something that was muffled under his coat. Cartman burst out laughing again, Stan's mouth popped open and I pouted.

"My dreidels have not been up anyone's butthole Kenny! That's sick!" I slammed my hand on the desk, mad with the constant teasing.

That of course didn't silence anyone who was laughing, which was mostly Cartman but also Kenny. I felt ready to cry. I hated being the outcast of the group, and all because stupid Jesus and Santa hated me.

I felt a warm hand on my shoulder, bringing me to blush and steady my rapid breathing. "Hey, Kyle, if it makes you feel better you can put your dreidels in my butt anytime you want."

**Haha, dreidels is like legos. It's just a really filthy word! Maybe I'm a total pervert... hmmm... oh well! You've got to love it! Thanks for reading! Please review and let me know what you think!**


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